


The Love’s in the Details... and in the Unconfessed Truth

by ClaireFisher



Series: Words In Between [16]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Love, Post-Episode: s04e04 The Devil’s in the Details... and the Upstairs Bedroom, Romance, Shules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireFisher/pseuds/ClaireFisher
Summary: Shawn knew he was far from having a perfect and holy life, but this time he wanted to do the right thing, he just didn’t know how.Post-Episode 04x04 The Devil’s in the Details... and the Upstairs Bedroom
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Series: Words In Between [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817497
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	The Love’s in the Details... and in the Unconfessed Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back with another fanfic part of the series Words In Between, which consist of extensions of my short stories posted in my multi-chap fic All Seasons With You :)
> 
> Even this extension not being a request, I decided to dive deeper into my study on Shawn's feelings in this episode. The opportunity he had to open his heart to Father Westley kept me wondering what he could've shared with him and the truths he discovered while doing so. 
> 
> I also would like to apologize if I portrayed the act of confessing wrongly. Being a Presbyterian I don't have experience with confessionaries and everything, so I tried my best with the little knowledge I have. I hope it wasn't that bad (or offensive in any way - if it was, please, let me know). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a comment! I'll love to hear your opinion, suggestions, or anything else you feel like to say ;)

  
Shawn was in a crossfire, and he knew it.

Was aware of it the moment he decided to pursue his resolve in dating Abigail. 

Sure, she was an incredible woman, with so much kindness and intelligence. A woman who, in some sense, would be able to offer him a future he only dreamed about in times where she was a possibility, back in high school, when she’s standing on that pier, perhaps holding the chance of transforming his carefree, reckless juvenile years in settlement and calmness. 

Maybe, back then, if Shawn had allowed himself to shove down his fears and take at least a step towards the moonlit wood path, he would have seen so much less of the world, would have stayed, changed. For sure, he would have suffered a lot less but would also have missed such breathtaking views and life adventures. 

Of course, he couldn’t delude much on this fictional scenario, after all, Shawn didn't have any comparison to say his decision of running away was better or worse than choosing to stay in Santa Barbara, with wife and little kids running around. Perhaps, that would be a great life.

But Shawn had run away, hopped up in his Norton with a few wrinkled dollars on his back pocket, and a ginormous desire to free himself from all (h)ropes and labels restraining him to a life he didn’t build for himself, to a future he couldn't hate more and a childhood and a father he resented greatly. 

And for years, his only certainty was that his destiny would be to remain a wanderer, a free spirit bouncing from city to country, postcards to people he loved as to remind them that he was still alive, and in some sense, well. 

That was until his own nature and despair to put to use his birth-gifted ability to see more than other people could, his so deep need to do good, to unmask the truth, to solve the crime, brought him back to where everything first started and Shawn found himself doing all the things he so vehemently vowed to never pursue.

He rented an apartment and an office, he started his own business, and, to the surprise of everyone who knew him, didn’t run away after the thrill and the fifteen minutes of fame evaporated. He restored his friendship with Gus and began to slowly mend things with his father. He made peace with Lady Justice and allowed his improved capability and mind to be used to do good and to serve people instead of serving for his own benefits. He started to build a place and, in some sense, a home, where he finally felt like he belonged. 

But in the midst of all that, something happened, a thing he didn't imagine it could, that ever would, not after the fiasco at the pier so long ago, not after many unfruitful relationships, not with his given unattached personality and fear of commitment. 

Shawn started to dream about the future.

One where there is a house with a pool on the backward. Where little feet paddle on the living room’s floor and the walls carry uncleanable stains, prints of flirty small hands, a mix of jam and paint. Where crayons litter the tables and floor and chubby little legs attempt their first steps. 

And in those newfound dreams, those tiny humans carried insanely blue eyes and blond curls, bright smiles, and some kindness that not his best genes could pass on. Some resilience and pureness Shawn had attested just once in his entire life, that he kept witnessing every single time he barged through the SBPD doors with his loud voice and unbid discrete. 

He didn’t want to blame her, his other best friend, the girl he’d grow to appreciate in more ways than he thought it was possible, the woman who caught his attention the very first time he saw her, sat there with her newspaper and orange sweater, aimlessly watching the door, curls swooshing gently in her shoulders, longer than they were now, glowing under the fluorescent lights of that dinner and the morning sun peeking through the unwashed windows of that place, but Shawn didn’t have another person to cast the guilt upon.

She was the reason why he couldn’t sleep most nights, terrified about what the simple thought of her could do to his mind and dreams, her small smile more powerful than any caffeine or energetic, leading the faux psychic to spend countless hours going over every single conversation they had on the last four years, inspecting and sorting through breadcrumbs of moments when he missed a chance to brush his hand against hers to the opportunity to praise her beauty in his own witty, clumsy way. 

Dreadful seconds where his cursed mind would race his heartbeat at the idea of her getting hurt in any kind or form, his heart constricted painfully each time he perceived a new cut or bruise maculating the perfection of her porcelain skin.

It was her who made him regret his lie, the first one to lead him to consider the absurdity of what he was doing and how further he was drowning on his own storytelling, how tangled in the web of his lies he actually was, causing Shawn to ponder not _if_ , but _when_ he was going to tell her the truth. 

But, as usual, the playout of his life dragged him to uncertain paths, and now Shawn was the further from a dream he once detested and that now he desired the most, engaged in a relationship with someone he liked but knew he didn't love, jumping from a case to another, solving crimes that, ironically, had a way to remind him of all he was missing by being with the wrong person or continuing on his addicting path of adding up another lie to his account. 

Before Shawn could get hold of what was happening, there was him, inside a small room, still processing that last case, still uncomfortable at how exposed he felt in the position he was now, how he was resorting on every drop of humor he possessed in his body to dodge the opening to start speaking truthfully.

Confession. 

It had been 15 years since his last one. 

By this point, Shawn had a long list to ask forgiveness for. 

But how to start? How to begin explaining what those last years had been like? 

So he started with his silliness and goofy jokes, creating dingles and talking about his breakfast choices of the day or how there wasn’t anything like a good nap after stuffing your face with tacos and pineapple smoothies, a combination he couldn’t say was ordinary, having the man on the other side of that sacred structure to let a small groan of displeasure to escape from his mouth at the idea of such foods mixing inside a person’s stomach. 

But as Shawn inconspicuously achieved more serious matters, his words began to be more sincere, the humor losing its power as he felt his own dreads and fears to climb the surface, flying out of his mouth faster than he could restrain them.

Gus was long gone and Shawn was in the real privacy of confessing his deep thoughts to that man who once was part of his life, who saw him grow to his early preteen years and who he wrongly put in jail, something he confessed regretting dearly. 

But somehow Shawn found comfort in Father Westley, and there was he, pouring his heart out in a way he never knew he could. All his sins flowed through his mouth until the truths appeared solid and real to haunt him. 

He liked his girlfriend but he loved someone else. He could end all things and reach the loved one but now she didn’t want him anymore, as he believed, and he just couldn’t walk out of his current relationship without breaking his girlfriend’s heart and, on top of that, his so secure self was terrified of that criticism he would receive from everyone, especially his father, for not being able to stay in a lasting and stable relationship. 

Shawn knew he was far from having a perfect and holy life, but this time he wanted to do the right thing, he just didn’t know how. 

But he was so tired, so drenched by his mind, by his father’s criticisms, by the labels attached to him.

By his own lie.

It was eating him inside.

Not the lie per se, but how it affected the most important people in his life. 

Gus, on some level, understood and accepted it, but he was always at risk of being arrested, sued, murdered, at the cost of protecting Shawn’s lie and their business. 

His father, even though he would impose and protest, claiming not wanting to be involved in any of his son’s shenanigans, couldn't help but step in at the last minute, saving his kid’s butt, helping him write this unfinished story of a guy with supernatural abilities and uncanny methods. 

Then the Chief who, even if Shawn suspected she knew from the very start, had put her career in jeopardy by accepting him as a consultant.

Lassie in his own grumpy way, despite his hatred towards Shawn and the deadly circumstances created by the psychic, would save him at the last minute, and not just because he was a civilian. 

Now, he had dragged Abigail Lytar to the equations, to that long list of people he kept tightened to the orbit of his makeshift career. She was there, at his side without a clue of what she was signing for when she decided to give him a chance, better said, a second one. She invited Shawn to have her heart without knowing that she would never have his, at least not entirely, not completely and that thought tore Shawn apart. Because on some level, he wanted to offer Abigail what he believed she deserved but he could never be the one she needed, and that wasn’t just because of his lie.

And then, perhaps the most painful one was the sort of friendship he shared with the woman who had dominated his mind and heart completely, the one who believed in him with such faith that Shawn often thought if one day she would ever accept that he wasn't psychic after all. Juliet O’Hara and her sapphire shaded eyes, which were the secret lock to all the wonderful things happening on her inside, was the one Shawn mourned more about lying to. He knew that she would do anything for him, face how many obstacles and pain to protect him, and each time he put her at risk, especially because of his lie, he felt something inside him die.

Every time it was the same old story

_Not Juliet, not my Jules._

But his powerful mind wasn’t capable of avoiding the predicaments of his decision, at least not always, and Juliet, inevitably, would get caught in the crossfire. 

And now, with Abigail in the picture, Shawn felt like more and more he was tearing apart the only person who made him dream of a future again. 

Shawn wanted to feel all those things for Abigail, honestly wanted to be able to be someone she deserved, but he couldn't. As long as Juliet walked on this earth he knew he was doomed.

But how to confess that? How to explain it when he couldn’t process it completely himself.

Father Westley wouldn’t understand, would he?

Probably not. 

Still, Shawn tried, in his clumsy way, to bring some light over that massive turmoil.

In the end, he felt a bit better, lighter, having Father Westley listening to him silently, leaving him with good advice but not necessarily helpful. 

_Shawn, to love someone, is to put their happiness above yours._

He had heard that so many times in his life. In movies, books, even in his father’s mouth, to the surprise of everyone. Still, it wasn’t less of a truth.

To put someone’s happiness above his. 

Has Shawn done that in his life? 

Well, thinking back he believed he had. On different levels, again, for his mom, or Gus, even for his dad. 

But never for a girl.

Because until then, Shawn had never found one who he appreciated in such a selfless way. 

Father Westley had told him so many other things, ones that Shawn had already forgotten, well, not completely, but which he had shoved at the back of his mind, not willing to deal with them right now. 

So he left the church and his doubts behind, fighting to bring back his careless, funny persona, as he crossed the doors of the SBPD, ready to collect his paycheck for the case and convince Gus to let them spend it in a much needed inflatable pool for the office, even if they were located just across the ocean. 

Right there though, at the entrance, hiding partially behind a corner, his sight was dragged to the magical halo of Juliet, her sweater-clad figure, the bright blue from the garment bringing out that enchanting tone of her sparkling eyes, causing Shawn to stop at his track, bubbling heart calming at the wave of peace and a bit of anticipation her presence caused in him.

For how long he stood there, Shawn couldn't say but, it was only when her lips broke in a small smile once she caught sight of him staring at her, cheeks blushing slightly as she ducked her head down, aware that sooner or later, Shawn would walk towards her desk with his charming words and flippant presence, that he truly understood what Father Westley and all romantic comedies meant with that oversaid sentence. 

Right there, looking at Juliet, all Shawn wanted was for her to be happy. 

The costs of it, it doesn’t matter.

Whatever is the price, he was willing to pay.

And if it meant him having to accept being with someone else, if it meant she would be far better with another man, despite how much it would kill him, if their destiny would be for them to remain just friends, if his recent awakened past dreams were meant to stay that way, only fantasies, if one day, having to tell her the truth was what would get her out of trouble and harm, Shaw was okay with it. 

Anything for her happiness. 


End file.
